


hail, holy queen

by peppermintcas



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 13:18:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10640631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintcas/pseuds/peppermintcas
Summary: He kisses her and it's like setting a building on fire: he knows it's a bad idea, intellectually, but everything in him is pushing him to do it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> found this in my notes from @ least a year ago lmao. finished it, thought i'd post it. warning: this fic is in no way thematically or stylistically coherent.

Frank Castle has a schedule. It goes like this:

1\. Take out who needs to be taken out, but in a way that doesn't attract too much attention. _Frank Castle, mass murderer,_ is dead - he intends to keep it that way.

2\. Scuffle with Red, when the guy inevitably shows up to try and stop him. Every fight ends in a weird kind of stalemate - sprawled out, breathing hard, Frank's target either dead or knocked out, depending on how fast he works and when Red shows up to stop him. "You know, most people stay down after the third time Daredevil shows up," Red says mutinously, sitting slumped against a wall with a hand to his ribs.

Frank scoffs, rolls his shoulder from where he's kneeling about three feet away. "I'm not most people," he says. "You up for another round?"

3\. Dinner. Or coffee, or a beer, if he shows up late and Karen's had a long day at The Bulletin and isn't up to ordering out. He isn't dead to her after all, it seems; he'd shown up, not without a good deal of apprehension, at her place a month after the firefight, and she'd been cold and hard and seemed in equal parts angry and despondent at the skull on his chestplate. "Stupid, to think - " she muttered, and then cut herself off. When she turned back around, her eyes were noticeably red and her arms crossed over her chest, but she'd said, "Do you want Chinese food?" and he'd taken the offer for the olive branch that it was.

/

When Frank sets up his Gatling gun and takes aim at the Hungarian mob meeting he knows is going on in the warehouse down below, he brings two coffees. Sure enough, Daredevil shows.

"Red," he says, not even bothering to turn around. He carefully peers through the scope, wraps a finger around the trigger. "You want coffee?"

There's a long silence, and then Red scoops up a coffee and, from the sound of it, drains maybe half. It's lukewarm at best: the cold's leeched all the heat from it. Frank takes a sip of his own. "Why do you keep showing up, Red," he says, more of an exhalation than audible words, but of course, the freak of nature that he is, Red hears every syllable.

"Because I believe in the right thing," he says, fiercely. A loud, pointed sip. "Because I don't believe in letting people die, no matter how shitty they've been."

"We've been over that," Frank says, "so many fuckin' times. We've also established that I'm not gonna stop, either, and this'll be, what, the fifteenth time you've shown up at one of my scenes and haven't called the police. Or told anyone I'm still alive."

Red places his empty cup on the rooftop ledge. A pause. "The law just isn't enough, sometimes," he says, finally. "Not the police, not even a court of law. And - I mean - you're dead in the eyes of the public. No point in setting the people off again."

"Is there another reason?" Frank asks. He takes a measured sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving the warehouse, finger tightening infinitesimally around the trigger. Red tenses. In those ridiculous red and black gloves, his fists curl; he doesn't reply.

Frank shrugs when the answer doesn't come. "Suit yourself, Red," he says, and opens fire.

After the fight - one of their better ones, Frank notes sardonically, wiping blood away from his upper lip - he looks over at Red, who's standing between him and the unconscious Hungarian mob. He considers going another round. He considers just shooting Daredevil. He considers a shitload of things, not the least of which is the fact that the Hungarians were running a heroin operation in that warehouse, just like Karen suspected, and is he late for dinner again, that would make it the second time this week and she needed that source for her article -

"Karen," Red says, suddenly.

"What," Frank says. Red can't read minds, right? He has ears like a goddamn bat, sure, but he's not fucking telepathic.

"Karen Page," Red says, and he drops his fists. His mouth turns downward, exhausted. "You asked me if there was another reason I keep showing up. You've been talking to Karen."

"That is none of your business, buddy," Frank growls, and raises his fists again.

"Wait, wait wait," Red says, fast. "No, I just - I'm glad. That you're looking out for her. Someone needs to and I - she won't let me do it anymore, even after I told her the truth, and it's dangerous out there, you know, and - " He gestures helplessly to the Hungarians behind him.

"Red," Frank says, cutting him off, "She carries a goddamn .380 in her purse. I'm pretty sure she can take care of herself."

Red looks taken aback. "She - what?"

"Cut the shit," Frank says. "She's a goddamn adult, and she's capable enough to know how to deal with shitbags."

"A .380 - Karen carries a gun? Since when?"

Frank shrugs, a silent _I don't know, who cares, none of our business,_ slants a glance past Red to the mob. Some are starting to stir. "If you won't let me take them out today," he says, "I'll just be back another day."

Red holds his gaze. "I'll be here to stop you." He hesitates. "Be good to Karen."

"Yeah, Red," Frank says, wipes his bloody nose, and goes.

/

He knocks on her car window outside the building of The Bulletin and hears the door unlock. "Brought coffee," he says, slides in and slams the car door shut. He hands Karen the cup.

"Thanks," she says, and wrestles her bag into the backseat, takes a long drink. "Oh my god, I have so much shit to do."

"Here," Frank says, and proffers a folder from his coat. "Evidence."

She opens it. There's pictures: boxes of wrapped packages of heroin, stacked to the roof, guards outside and patrolling the building and escorting shipments. "Oh, thank God," she says, and drains the rest of her coffee. "Finally." She pauses, closing the folder. "Should I ask what happened to the Hungarians, or - "

"Red showed up," Frank says, and looks out the window.

"Okay," Karen says. She somehow makes it sound neutral, even though he knows she's biting back words right now. "You up for Indian tonight?"

/

"Sixteenth," Frank says, the next night Red shows up.

"Shut up, Frank," Red mutters.

For the record, Red throws the first punch.

/

They're sitting in a tiny diner, hot coffee in front of them, and Karen says, "I came to New York to run away."

Frank drinks from his coffee. When he puts it down, Karen is dragging her spoon through her cup, watching the eddies that swirl in the wake. "Lots of people do," he says, noncommittally. Karen huffs a laugh.

"I came from Vermont," she tells him. "My brother - when he was sixteen, he died in a car crash. The car went through a chain link fence and into the embankment. Cause unknown."

"I'm sorry," Frank says, because that's what you say to people after they tell you shit like that. It's useless - he would know - but it's better than nothing. Tentatively, he brushes his hand against Karen's.

"Yeah," Karen says. She doesn't look up from her coffee.

/

He kisses her and it's like setting a building on fire: he knows it's a bad idea, intellectually, but everything in him is pushing him to do it.

She kisses back.

"I'm bad for you," he growls in her ear. "I'm not gonna be here all the time. I'm gonna show up and you're gonna hate me because you'll know what I just did. I'm not gonna be able to - "

"If you say _protect me_ ," Karen says, pointing a warning finger in his face, "if you dare condescend to me like that, I will kick you in the balls."

He says, "Fair enough." Pauses. "I wasn't going to."

"Good," she says. "And for the record, I'm all for bad ideas."

He stands there, jaw slack, as she unzips her dress and lets it fall to the floor; unclasps her necklace, drops it on the nearby coffee table. She's wearing black underwear, matching, lacy.

"Well?" she asks.

He scoops her up into his arms and carries her into the bedroom. If the door slams a little harder than usual - well, that's definitely his fault.

/

"You're sleeping with her," Red says, bizarrely accusational. "When I said _be good to her_ \- "

"That is _none_ of your _damn business_ , buddy," Frank growls, and swings the Gatling gun onto his shoulder.

/

He smooths his hands over her thighs and her stomach and the width of her hips, the softness there, as she wriggles under his palms. "God," she says, making it sound like a curse. "Get the fuck on with it."

"Yes, ma'am," Frank says, drops a kiss onto her inner thigh and licks a long, broad stripe up her pussy.

/

"Jesus," she gasps. "Jesus, fuck."

"You leave him out of this," Frank says, nearly laughing.

"God," she corrects, her eyes dark, pupils blown wide. Her face is flushed, her hair spread like a halo; her body arches over him like redemption. " _Fuck_."

He kisses her. Pulls her down and rolls his hips up, so that she can feel him, and both of them suck in their breath. "You're so beautiful," he says mindlessly. "God, Page."

"Touch me," she says breathlessly, so he flips them over and does: kisses her, her shoulder and her throat and her navel and her knees and her thighs, her breasts, her clit.

"Come up here," she says, so he does.

"Do it," she says, "fuck me," so he does, and he comes and comes and comes, like benediction, prayer, heaven.

/

"I'm not a religious man," he tells her, "But I think you've converted me."

Karen looks over from where she's reading over her notes and pauses to study him. Leans forward and places a kiss, gentle, right on his brow.

"Good," she says.

**Author's Note:**

> my writing style: [changes halfway thru the fic]
> 
> me: ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
